POV: You're the only person in the entire world

That's how today felt, at least. Not in the sense of like "last person on earth" but in the sense of like... the only sane person. The amount of work being put on me is kind of crazy, and my manager pinged me today to be like "hey don't forget training is due".

First off, training is not due today. Or tomorrow. Training is due Wednesday.

Second off, you're the one that gave me so much work that I don't have time for everything, including training.

When I first started this job, I got a lot of advice from more veteran coworkers. I don't know if they knew they were giving me advice though. I'd see them work insanely hard every day and go above and beyond, only for our manager to give the raise/promotion/reward to someone else, seemingly just because they were a better buddy to him. I think it put into my mind the idea of like don't give 100%, you will regret it.

Entering the job force, it's amazing to look around and see that most people don't give anywhere close to 100%. It can be so low, that it will be personally offensive sometimes. Like I sent an email four hours ago, you can't check your fucking email in four fucking hours? What are you doing?

Literally (side tangent) someone mentioned something during a presentation. I was working on a related task, so about 20 minutes after the meeting ended, I messaged them something like: "Hey, did you say [blank]? Or did I misunderstand?" because it could potentially impact my work. It was close to the end of day, so I didn't expect him to respond, but he still didn't respond the next morning. Or afternoon. I messaged him at about 2 pm asking if he saw my message. He said he did, he just didn't know how to respond. Okay, so you just didn't respond???

"you disgust me" jk I had to be like "oh wow :) haha np :) haha yeah cool I get it haha :)" my worksona was sweating

But more and more lately, I think I'm learning it isn't about being someone that gives 100%. Not necessarily. That's only a symptom. The root cause is caring. I want to say "caring too much" but honestly, in this modern world, if you care anything over 60%, that is apparently too much.

I feel so alone sometimes, hearing these people say wild shit, and looking around at everyone else, slowly realizing I'm the only one that cares. When we have regular meetings during lunch, when the coworker is slightly misogynistic, when someone else doesn't do the work... everyone else just takes it. They don't notice. You look around thinking does anyone else have an issue with this and they don't. The lack of response can be disconcerting and sometimes makes me feel like the only person that's actually awake and not in a fog.

The worst part is that I don't want to care less. Honestly, not sure if you can turn the dial and do that anyways. I think if anyone reading this is like that--someone who cares about things other people don't care about--then I think that's great, and kind of needed. I wouldn't want them to care less. I don't want to care less. I just wish everyone else cared a little bit more.

Grady Hendrix is surprisingly mean

I started Witchcraft for Wayward Girls today.

The covers kinda slap

 First off, big book is big. Kind of keep settling into weird positions on the couch or bed and hold it up with only my wrists and gives me a bit of a soreness. I have delicate wrists for I am a delicate lady.

Anyways, instead of showering, I read this book for most of today. It's my first real Grady Hendrix book, I think I started the Final Girl Support Group (or whatever it's called, I think it's a bit funnier if I don't look up the title and go with something slightly wrong nvm I just looked it up and it's exactly what I guessed so that's less funny) but I only got maybe 30 pages in. It's not that it didn't interest me, I think I was just less intense about reading and it was due back at the library, so I just never picked it up again to finish off the other 322 pages.

Truthfully, I was in a bookstore and I picked up this book and was so nearly close to buying it. The first sentence is so funny. (She didn't think things could get any worse, then she saw the sign. Welcome to Florida, it read.) I barely managed to resist once I saw the library had a copy. And this morning, I had five unstarted library books so I rolled a random number generator and got this one (which is good because I secretly wanted to start this one today). It's definitely cutting the line quite a bit, but the rules are different on a snow day/weekend. Welcome to the Thunderdome.

The first scene of gore is shocking. I guess I wasn't familiar with Hendrix so I didn't think he'd necessarily go there, but as they say, don't read a horror book centered around a lot of pregnancy if you aren't ready for some pregnancy-related horror, so I suppose that's my bad for ignoring that common phrase.

Then there's an entire two pages in Chapter 22 just describing a character's pain. Two entire pages. The descriptions are visceral and unique. It starts with: The thing in her stomach picked her up and dragged her into the pain room. Her entire body was made of pain. (I really would like to write more of the quotes but I think it might be quite a lot.) What a blunt way to start it though. It really catches the attention if you ask me. I'd love if someone asked me one day. God, I'm lonely.

In another scene, a character pays the "sixpence" of a spell. I preface my reaction by saying I've read a good amount of horror and gore (Bat Eater, Play Nice, and The Eyes Are the Best Part most recently). This wasn't even a horror scene in that sense and I almost couldn't read the whole thing. As it was, I had to skim over it, take a break to cringe and curl up in a ball and feel every feeling like electricity down my nerves, and then skim over the rest super fast like ripping off a visual band-aid. I have to imagine it's the kind of phantom pain men feel when they watch those "funny" compilation videos of other men getting kicked in the balls.

Except with fingers.

You look into that eye and try to tell it that its gore gave me a false sense of security of what level of gore I could handle

Although the sixpence scene was probably objectively the worst, there is also a medical scene that made my hands shake so bad. I do think it was supposed to be horrible, but I don't know if it was supposed to send the reader away sobbing. Which I didn't do right away, I read another 40 pages before my bf came to check on me, which broke my reading trance and then I started sobbing.

The dedication page was so silly that it really put me in a false sense of ease

I'm a bit impressed with Hendrix though. He isn't afraid to take the wheel and go straight off a horror cliff, or more accurately, teeter the car dangerously close to the horror cliff while his passengers scream, squirm, and cringe in sympathetic pain. I guess I thought since he's a bit more of a known name that the book would be a little more "mainstream", which can also kind of go hand-in-hand with "safe" and "tame". If you want something truly horrific, surely they would not sell it on the front table of BookPeople. That's just out where everyone could see it, including kids aged under 5, grandmothers with pearls, and a really cool dog on a skateboard that one time.

This preconception was my mistake. Grady Hendrix is one of those mean authors that isn't afraid to toss his characters in a fire to keep him warm and has a poetic charm for scary gory pain. BookPeople's entrance table has (as the kid's say) "hands".

Btw this is the man I'm complimenting and this is also his author photo in the book

'To become a witch, one traditionally meets a dark figure in a remote place and pledges their loyalty. I am that dark figure, this is that remote place, and now I require each of you who wishes to leave man's world behind, each of you who wishes to embrace her power and turn your back on God, to pledge yourself to me.' -Quote I liked from the book that I don't have to censor because it isn't about pain or pregnancy medical horror.

A poem I like

 In 2025, I'd like to read more poetry. I want to be the kind of person that would have a favorite poet, and reads a ratty, broken-backed poetry book during lunch. I think people that read poetry books are inscrutable and I'd like people to see me reading poetry and feel a slight tinge of intimidation, maybe fear.

I found this poem because a section of it was printed on the back of a Dalton Doodles print.

I think everything I buy should come with a little poem tbh

The Kingfisher by Mary Oliver 

The kingfisher rises out of the black wave
like a blue flower, in his beak
he carries a silver leaf. I think this is
the prettiest world—so long as you don’t mind
a little dying, how could there be a day in your whole life
that doesn’t have its splash of happiness?
There are more fish than there are leaves
on a thousand trees, and anyway the kingfisher
wasn’t born to think about it, or anything else.
When the wave snaps shut over his blue head, the water
remains water—hunger is the only story
he has ever heard in his life that he could believe.
I don’t say he’s right. Neither
do I say he’s wrong. Religiously he swallows the silver leaf
with its broken red river, and with a rough and easy cry
I couldn’t rouse out of my thoughtful body
if my life depended on it, he swings back
over the bright sea to do the same thing, to do it
(as I long to do something, anything) perfectly.

To me, this poem is saying that we live on this beautiful planet, a world that isn't devoid of happiness even on its worst days, a world of "more fish than there are leaves on a thousand trees"--abundant and diverse--where even a bird diving into water to eat a fish is a perfection we can see and witness everyday if we chose to.

I like the juxtaposition of the narrator being envious of the kingfisher for a skill that is somewhat mindless to the kingfisher, while the narrator longs to "do something, anything" as perfectly as the kingfisher does this one thing. The kingfisher "wasn't born to think about it", while the narrator says they "couldn't rouse [the cry] out of my thoughtful body". Maybe it's a case of making what you want to do the things you do everyday. If you do them everyday, then they become mindless, and in a way, there is a perfection to be found more easily in that.

But honestly, I think it's more about how there's a perfection in nature, possibly even a perfection that we will never have. We can't be like the kingfisher, we can't say we weren't born to think about it. A lot of what we do is think about everything. Overthink, too. We can't dive like the kingfisher or cry like the kingfisher. It seems to me like the poem is saying we should enjoy this beauty and find this perfection where we can.

My coworker has five AI websites bookmarked... why does he need that many?

My coworker shared his screen today, and (see title of post). Five. Even grok, which I've only heard negative things about.

He's the kind of person that will bother me in micro ways, like he won't bring back something he borrowed, he'll leave something on my desk and I'll have to bring it back to him, and he won't ask permission before using something of mine. And no one else notices--or maybe he doesn't do it to anyone else--so I feel like I'm being gaslit into thinking he's quite an inconsiderate person.

Today, he bothered me quite a bit, so I'm going to brainstorm why he uses that many AI.

1. He makes them talk to each other.

2. He uses one to book a flight, one to book a hotel, one to plan a day in Universal, and then one to cancel the hotel, and the other to cancel the flight. Which I guess still leaves him with a day in Universal and no way to get there.

3. Shipping a love pentagon.

4. He really hates the planet and tries to use that many all at once to drain Earth's resources more and more quickly. This is, of course, quite evil and is hopefully not the case, least of which because I like this planet and require it to live.

5. Getting every variation of spelling of the word "strawberry".

No. 3, pictured

 

The life changing magic of reading a Marie Kondo book (except I'm still messy)

So I really want to say that The Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up was indeed life changing, but kind of yes, kind of no. Some things stuck, some didn't. Now I neatly fold my socks instead of scrunching them up, but I definitely still have piles of various things in my room that I have to maneuver around. The piles are now organized by type, at least.

Ignore the price sticker, it oddly sparks joy so it stays

One of the things that I didn't keep but wish I did was the idea of greeting your home. Chapter 5, "The magic of tidying dramatically transforms your life" has a sub-section called "Do you greet your house?" Kondo starts the section off by saying how she will greet a home whenever she starts a job there, and how maybe the habit started because the tense, expectant atmosphere when she first entered felt like when you pass through a shrine.

This is the first homework assignment I give my clients at my private lessons. Just as you would greet your family or your pet, say, 'Hello! I'm home,' to your house when you return. If you forget when you walk in the door, then later, when you remember, say, 'Thank you for giving me shelter.' 

I really love how she connects with inanimate things. She always seems to find some lovely little reason why your junk is happy you're throwing it out, or why it's okay to keep something embarrassing (as long as it sparks joy!). You read this book, and suddenly you're so invigorated and energized. It's a wonderful feeling to sit in. In a pleasant way, her own book sparks joy for me. I hold it in my hands and smell the glue smell (which is not the best, 6 out of 10), and it's this North Star. Suddenly, I am clean.

Beyond clean, even. I am cozy.

Honestly, her way of speaking feels almost poetic to me. She mixes in this beautiful personifying imagery into her words. What resonates with me the most in this short chapter is the following: If you [greet your home] repeatedly, you will start to feel your house respond when you come home. You will sense its pleasure passing through like a gentle breeze.

 

Does the bobarista like me?

 There is a boba place close to my work that I go to almost once a week. I think the bobarista likes me, but I can't be sure. I go a lot so it'd be nice if she liked me because that makes the drinks taste better, and I like her a lot because she's always there and she always makes a great drink. She's also super fast at making them, which I respect a lot.

Here is my evidence that she might like me:

1. She smiles when I walk in.

2. I come in a lot (like I said, almost every week) so I'm kind of a "regular". So if I made her like me one time she might still like me now.

3. One time she was really busy and kept saying sorry and that it'd be awhile, but I said "no worries, please take your time, I'm in no rush" and I really meant it. I think she sensed that.

4. I bring in a lot of business. This might not matter too much but my friends have a theory that she's the owner, and if she is, then bringing in business is good. But I take a lot of people to this boba place with me and sometimes in the past if my boss wanted to treat us with something, we'd get boba from there and I'd order it with his card and pick it up for him, so about once a month I looked like an insanely thirsty individual.

5. I always say thank you when I take my drink. I try to be a Good Customer and I like the bobaristas to know I appreciate their professionalism and expertise.

6. I usually will go order at the kiosk. This could actually be a point against me because she's sometimes behind the counter and ready to take my order and instead I go to the kiosk, which could seem rude. But the reason I go to the kiosk is because I think she's the only person that works that shift and I want her to be free to focus on making drinks and not on taking my order.

7. No clue if she can even see it but I do leave a tip on my drink, usually a dollar or less. However, sometimes when I place a mobile order it won't ask if I want to leave a tip, so it looks like I didn't leave a tip in those instances. Double however, I do bring a dollar with me and put it in the jar. Triple however, I only do it once her back is turned because I feel like it's weirdly performative to do it if she's watching, like I'm only doing it for her to say thank you to me. So this one could go either way, idk.

8. My friend asked what kind of straw to get and I said if she got a small straw her drink would last longer (since it's less drink going through the straw, it's science, look it up) and the bobarista overheard and kind of laughed like it was moderately funny.

6.  Look at how much boba she gave me:

Sharpie for scale

Counterpoints to balance it out:

1. She's in a service role and might kind of definitely have to smile and be nice when I come in because that's kind of the job.

2. I've literally never talked to her outside of "hi", "good", and "can I get...?" followed by my order (and thank you, of course). The thing I said about the straw earlier might've been the first thing outside of that really, and I didn't even direct it at her, it was more to my friend.

3. She might've had a little extra boba stuck to the spoon so she just ended up throwing it in my drink because it was easier.

I always thought that it'd be really cool to be a real regular that has a "usual" order, and they ask, "the usual today?" and you get to just be like, "yeah." I think I'd feel very seen. I also have to assume that a drink made with more positive feelings would taste better than a drink made with negative or neutral feelings, that's also just science. Anyways, that's just my first impressions, I haven't put that much thought into it. Let me know what you think.

I have made a blog and I'm really not sure about my decision to make a blog

 I've had a blog before back in college but it was for a class. It was pretty cool honestly but it had a whole theme thing going on and I always wanted to return to it or maintain it but I didn't. Definitely one of those things you keep telling yourself you'll totally do to maintain some level of coolness within yourself but secretly it's all just lies.

I think my main struggle is always "who cares". And if no one cares, then why does it need to go online? What is different between this and just journalling privately? And honestly I don't know. I saw mothcub's blog though, and their video on starting one, and idk it really struck me. I liked it a lot and thought it was perfect and I wanted to try. But idk, we'll see. I don't like the idea of voluntarily giving up my info to the internet (and to Google). I almost didn't make it past the login.

 "Diaristic noodling" is what mothcub called it and idk I think I love that term.

 Anyways, tomorrow is my birthday and I haven't told anyone. Obviously my parents and my sis and boyfriend know, because they were all there when I was born. Except my boyfriend. He's younger than me so he was probably there in spirit. But I'm going to go to work tomorrow and it'll be a regular day, and no one will know.

Actually, it's not a regular day in the sense that I have like 11 meetings tomorrow. My friend asked if I wanted to grab lunch and I was like "I can't" because it was true and I couldn't instead of the reason being I'm shy and nervous and couldn't in the sense that I didn't want to.

I like having a secret birthday. My coworkers have asked me a lot before, and they think they know what day it is but their guess is wrong and because I don't correct them they assume it's right. It's like 10 days off so they will say a really confidently wrong "Happy Birthday" like way late and I'll forget by that point that I even had a birthday.

My school used to announce birthdays on the intercom and I hated it, I hated people I barely knew walking by and telling me "Happy Birthday" because I didn't know them and they didn't know me. It always felt like they entered into a place I didn't want them to without my consent. I guess it's the same for coworkers--we aren't friends, they don't know me and I didn't choose for them to come into my Birthday Lair. I don't want to awkwardly sit in a conference room while everyone on my team--including the asshole who condescended to me a week ago about if I even know what a DTO is (he literally sent me a diagram for beginners before walking over to my cube to explain with no preamble, just assuming I must not know)--sings a discordant happy birthday that none of us want to sit through. Except my manager for some reason. He's the only one that's a fan of it, but he's also one of those "we're all a family" types who is absolutely not cool like my real family.

 Partly why I think it could be cool to start a blog is to look back after the year has passed and hopefully see like 5 billion posts of all the different things I did or thought or whatever.

 My feelings on posting this are like ._. >~< :^o :{) <mustache 🐎